Servitude
by SiriusMarauderFan
Summary: Barty didn't know what he was getting into when he followed Regulus into the meeting that night, but he never regretted it. one shot.


**Author's Note:** I'm so sad to be writing my final fics for the Battlefield Wars, but also really excited to be starting my Next Big Project. I'm going to miss my team so much! :(

Written for…

Battlefield Wars Competition. _Team/Position:_ After All This Time – Always, Front Line Cadet #2. _Mandatory Character:_ Barty Crouch Jr. _Assisting Character:_ Voldemort. _Prompts:_ cloaked, devotion, psychotic

 **Servitude**

 _June, 1978_

"It'll be fun," Regulus muttered, tugging on Barty's sleeve to get him moving faster.

Barty shot his friends a dubious look as he stumbled over loose twigs in the darkness. It would have been helpful to have a wand to light his way through the woods but Regulus had been worried about being followed and forbade him from using magic until they were at the meeting place.

"Reg, it's not that I don't trust your cousin or anything, but-"

"Bellatrix says he's going to change the world," the older boy interrupted. "Normally I wouldn't put much faith in her opinion, but she's not the only one. Angelo joined him last month and Luther went to him just last week. My parents have heard his plans and they think this is a good opportunity."

They'd stopped walking. Through a line of trees, Barty could just make out the outline of a house. It was neither old nor decrepit, as he'd imagined, but pristine and newly-painted; welcoming against the backdrop of the darkened field.

"You can go back, if you want to," Regulus murmured, watching him intently.

Barty thought to his own parents and what they would say if they knew he was planning to meet _the_ Lord Voldemort. His mother would worry. She always worried about him too much. He doubted his father would even take notice of the secret late-night excursions that Barty had been warned would occupy his time. The only thing Senior had been concerned with for the last two decades was looking for anyone practicing dark magic.

And like that, Barty knew this was the right path. He was standing on the doorstep of an expert in the Dark Arts. For the first time in his life, he was about to be something his father would take interest in.

The process went more smoothly than he could've dreamt.

Of the thirty worshipers in the house, Barty knew only six. Regulus' cousin kept herself at the front of the crowd, watching with rapt attention as the Dark Lord scrutinized his newest recruits.

Barty himself had a difficult time tearing his eyes away from the man cloaked in dark robes. Even as he thought it, 'man' didn't seem like the right description. He was more than that. He was a God trapped in human form. He glided across the floor, commanded attention without saying a word. His power radiated off him in waves and Barty found himself mesmerized.

"Why have you come?" the Dark Lord asked.

Regulus' response had been weak, asking for power and justice.

"I'm here to serve you," Barty answered, keeping his head bowed even as the Lord's eyes bore into him.

The answer – a lie initially – became Barty's mission. Thoughts of his father's approval disappeared from his mind the longer he spent in the Dark Lord's presence, and in its place was the need to please the one who was willing to take a chance on him.

:-:

 _January, 1982_

"Just follow my lead, boy," Rodolphus told Barty as they watched the happy family playing on their lawn.

Barty bit back a retort, scowling at his reflection in the windowpane. He had gained the Mark long before Rodolphus, but of course the man was blinded by age, thinking himself more experienced than the twenty-two year old by his side.

At the other end of the room, Bellatrix was whispering something in the ear of the muggle whose house they had seized. Rabastan stood by, ready to restrain the old woman should she try and run. His brute strength was his only asset, so far as Barty could tell. Neither brother was very intelligent and it was a wonder the Dark Lord had Marked them that all. Barty strongly suspected they had only gotten in through Bella's pleading.

Across the street, the small family was heading in doors. Barty perked up from his position. His hand instinctively reached into his robes and tightened around his wand, itching to be unleashed on the blood traitors who had evaded his master.

He rubbed at his Mark while he waited for the others to gather with him by the door. He longed to feel some sensation once more, even if it were the white-hot burning that ran too often through his arm at his Lord's displeasure at the others. It had been too long since the feelings died and the summons stopped.

Finally, with a flick of Bellatrix's wand, the muggle woman was dead and the four Death Eaters marched across the road to the house of their intended victims.

The aurors put of a valiant fight even as their infant screamed.

Barty became paired with Rabastan, facing off against the woman. She remembered him from school, attempted to coax him onto her side. She had no idea how far the thought of joining her was from his mind.

"Crucio," his whispered, a smile gracing his lips as he watched her writhe on the floor.

"You're psychotic, all of you," she panted when the curse died out.

The woman was cut off from spewing more insults as Bellatrix joined in with a curse of her own.

:-:

 _April, 1983_

Proving his devotion to the Dark Lord was well worth the pain of Azkaban.

Bellatrix had chastised him for his outburst at the trial, but she didn't understand. She thought he was denouncing the cause but he was just as dedicated. More so, in fact.

He fought the sentencing because he knew what it would do to his parents. He saw the pain in his mother's eyes as he was dragged away, and no doubt it would look unfavorable for Senior to send his son to Azkaban while he was pleading with him as he had.

It had been a year since he was able to take pleasure in his service to the Dark Lord, but the moment his mother was forcing the flask of polyjuice potion into his hands, Barty felt a flicker of something other than the fear and depression he'd become used to.

When he was far enough away from the fortress that the effects of the Dementors gave way to a foggy haze, he thought back to the Longbottom attack and smiled.

One day his Lord would return and Barty's loyalty would never be questioned.


End file.
